


Cat and Mouse

by samidha



Series: S3-04 Hiatus and S4 Reactions and Sundry [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-13
Updated: 2009-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Hell, year 30, day 1.





	Cat and Mouse

Alastair could feel it coming like the lick of flames along the soles of his feet as he stood before Dean once more. Soon. Soon, Dean would pick up the knife. He would do it in Alastair's honor.

He wouldn't think of it that way, not now. Alastair was not fool enough to think that. Not now, not yet.

There was still work to be done. Dean was his, but he didn't know that yet. All Dean knew was that he has lost the one called Sam.

Alastair had been growing very, very sick of Sam Winchester and he had never had the misfortune of actually meeting the supposed Boy King. Day in and day out for twenty-nine years Alastair had worn a form that was not his own. Whether it pleased Alastair or not, Sam Winchester's form had always been the most effective for dealing with Dean as the grand torturer held his energy in the form of a single tail whip, a serrated knife.

And then the day had finally come when Dean had gone silent, stopped calling for Sam. Stopped calling for Sam to stop.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," Alastair murmured, tongue licking out and laying a line of blisters against Dean's skin. "He's really not my type."

Dean barely twisted away. His eyes were glassy, his gaze unfocused. "I'd offer you our deal, but I don't think anybody's home right now, hmm, Dean?"

No answer.

Finally. Alastair could taste it now.

He snapped his fingers and Dean was forced through the sensation of drawing in a breath. Forced to come back to himself.

Alastair picked up the bullwhip and smiled. "There you are." He lay a line of strokes along Dean's flesh as he spoke. "You know what my offer is, Dean."

And Dean said nothing, but it was only a matter of time. Here in hell, there was nothing but.

This was Alastair's favorite game in the world. He'd never stop playing, until he did.

And when he did, Dean would know who he belonged to.


End file.
